


sudden and new

by indiavolojones



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: M/M, Wicked AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:21:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23750752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiavolojones/pseuds/indiavolojones
Summary: “I thought I could make it up to you this way.”“By offering to, what,make out with me?” Solomon says, disbelief mounting. Asmo shrugs his shoulders, one hand trailing up Solomon’s hip.(A Wicked AU, where Asmodeus is the world's worst roommate.)
Relationships: Asmodeus/Solomon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 137





	sudden and new

**Author's Note:**

> this was a request on tumblr for something with Wicked's "Loathing" that i accidentally made too long, so i figured i'd post it here haha!
> 
> Pls keep in mind a bunch of small notes:
> 
> -I haven’t seen Wicked, only listened to the soundtrack! I don’t remember what happened to make them room together/much of the plot hahaha. This is less of a wicked au and more a magical college au, whoooo~  
> -I made up so much shit for this. I was pulling lore outta my ass like nobody’s business  
> -Everyone is human!  
> -I skipped around a lot, so if there’s something that doesn’t make sense pls ask and I’ll clarify hahaha, I wanted to keep this short!! (is,…. 4.7k short…)

“We’re all supposedly the best of the best, and yet none of us could stop a burst pipe,“ Solomon bemoans the status of their old dormitory.

“In our defense, it happened in the middle of the night and we had no idea what was going on?” Simeon offers, tilting his head with a sympathetic smile.

“But midway through the semester!” Solomon won’t admit that the loss of one of his few friends being constantly at his side is more daunting than he thought it would be. Simeon is a phenomenal roommate, and understands Solomon better than anyone.

With the unfortunate mad dash to get all the affected students into new, undamaged rooms, the two of them are being split up, and now Solomon will have to get used to another, likely annoying roommate.

“I never realized you were this dependent on me.” Simeon teases, and Solomon glares at him. Simeon swirls himself around in Solomon’s desk chair while Solomon walks by, cardboard box in his arms. Just to annoy him, his foot shoots out to stop Simeon mid-spin, and Simeon huffs, looking up at him. 

“Didn’t you say you were going to help?” Solomon asks.

Simeon laughs.

“You asked me to come help move boxes? I thought it was for sure because of you freaking out at getting a new roommate.” Solomon’s lips quirk downwards, and turns his head away with a scoff as he brings the box to the corner of his new dorm. Simeon props an elbow up on Solomon’s desk and watches the other.

“What could you possibly do to help with that?” Solomon asks, palm pressing to the box and releasing the sealing spell on it. “Do you have a solution for this?”

He gestures at the other half of the (thankfully) large room.

Instead of the traditional bunk bed and lower desk set like on Solomon’s side of the room, the other half of the room consists of a large wardrobe as additional closet space, an extravagant vanity filled with beauty products, and a _nest_. A massive nest of pillows, sheets, and blankets—describing it feels ridiculous, but to look on its glory is surprisingly enticing. It does look… very comfortable.

“I think it looks rather nice,” Simeon examines the fairy lights strung up around the walls near the bed. The edges of his roommate’s influence barely encroach onto what Solomon would consider to be his side, but as he’s the one imposing on this person’s space halfway into the year… he’ll bite his tongue.

Realistically, there’s no reason for RAD to have shared dorm rooms–the school is prestigious enough that each student could probably get their own living suite… but the chancellor of their particular location is the direct son of the president. He’s a bit eccentric, and enthusiastically vocal about the benefits of shared dorms as _integral to the relationships they develop with their peers_.

(There are things Solomon’s heard of him too: how he’s the youngest person in his role, how despite the accusations of nepotism he’s completely taken the magical community by storm in his unconventional approach to education.

An interesting man that Solomon would enjoy meeting face to face, rather than admire on a podium, even if he is quite handsome.)

Simeon purses his lips, before snapping his fingers, “A privacy screen?”

Solomon rolls his eyes hard enough that they feel like falling out of his sockets.

“I don’t know why you’re so up in arms about this. I’m sure your roommate will be fine,” Simeon says then, gentle–Solomon looks at the opposite side of the room and has his doubts. “It’ll be good for you to try making more than three friends, you know.”

Taking the books out of the box and lining them up on the shelves of the book case, Solomon tosses a glance back at Simeon.

Simeon isn’t wrong.

Solomon could be the most powerful sorcerer in the world, but it means absolutely nothing if he can’t effectively operate in the modern magical community. Maybe if he was born several hundred years earlier he could have swept up the world in the sheer magnitude of his power, but nowadays, politics infect everything. Solomon can’t patent a spell to wipe his ass without a sponsor, and no one wants to sponsor the intense kid with a bad attitude.

His ability to cast magic without any kind of aide or incantation launched him into the spotlight at an early age. Solomon has always been aware of what other people thought of him. When empty praise didn’t ingratiate his sycophants to him, it just as easily turned to criticism; kids are cruel, after all. As a result, Solomon has always struggled connecting with others.

By the time he realized he would have to work on his people skills to get anywhere, he was halfway through high school with a bad reputation, no friends, and no open doors.

(Funnily enough, it was around the same time that he met Simeon that he realized he needed to be less of an asshole if he was to ever get anywhere in life.

Simeon has been integral in teaching Solomon “ _how to person_ ”, as he puts it.)

“Who’s your new roommate, anyway?” Simeon asks when Solomon doesn’t respond to his comment. “I don’t think you said their name.”

“Did I not?” Solomon hums, “It’s someone named Mephistopheles.”

“ _Mephistopheles_?” Simeon parrots, head tilting to the side, “Didn’t he get expelled?”

As Solomon opens his mouth to question Simeon, the door handle jiggles as someone unlocks it.

It swings open unceremoniously, followed by the quiet moans and shuffling of clothes as two people stumble inside the threshold. Simeon and Solomon can only watch in stunned silence as the taller, curly haired man presses a shorter woman against the wall, his face fully obscured in the curve of her neck as he lavishes it in open mouthed kisses.

Her eyelids flutter, he must be doing a great job–but the second she makes eye contact with Solomon, she shrieks.

“Asmo, Asmo _wait_ –” The girl bats at his chest, her face bright red, “There’s _people_ here!” Asmo pulls his face away from her skin to look at the room, a gorgeous smile on his face as he notices the others does not falter in the slightest.

“Oh, you’re Solomon!” Asmo smiles, before looking at Simeon, “And you’re Simeon. Lovely to meet you both.” Solomon looks at Simeon for some kind of hint as to what the fuck he should do here, but Simeon also seems at a loss. Before either of them can say anything, Asmo slides a hand up the girl’s side to cup her cheek, speaking to them even as he stares deep into her eyes.

“Now, would the two of you kindly get out?”

The rest of living with Asmo is pretty much a continued repeat of their first meeting. Multiple times a week, sometimes once or twice in a day. Solomon has no fucking _clue_ how someone like Asmo gets any schoolwork done, or hell, when the other gets sleep?

Regardless, it’s two weeks of Asmo getting laid and Solomon not getting proper amounts of sleep, and he’s _sick_ of it.

“There need to be,” Solomon grimaces, swirling around in his desk chair but faltering as Asmo emerges from the bathroom, toweling his hair and jeans hanging low on his hips, “… _ground rules._ ”

Asmo tilts his head, “Rules?” He says the words like it’s a foreign language, new and clunky in his pretty mouth. Solomon wants to sock him.

“You _can’t_ keep bringing partners back here,” Solomon says. Asmo goes back to toweling his perfect fucking hair.

“And why is that?”

“I can’t concentrate on coursework or go to bed if you’ve got someone moaning in your bed _every other night_.”

“Sounds like a personal problem,” Asmo sniffs, and Solomon very quickly finds the situation slipping through his fingers. All of his phenomenally constructed arguments for why Asmo should be a respectful roommate have disintegrated in the face of Asmo’s pure obstinance. “Besides, where would I take my partners if not to my bedroom?”

“Their rooms. A dark alcove somewhere. A car. A bathroom. I don’t care–anywhere else but _here_.”

Asmo ponders this for a moment, before he shrugs his shoulders as he walks across the room to his drawers by the window, “Nope. I don’t think that’s considerate for them.” Either blind or pretending to be to Solomon's frustration, Asmo digs through to presumably find a shirt, and Solomon nearly roars, _what about_ me _, you horny bastard_. He narrows his eyes, and bites the bullet. 

“You’re on academic probation, aren’t you?” Solomon says, and Asmo freezes with his back turned to Solomon, tension evident in the line of his shoulders. When he turns around, his expression is colder than anything Solomon’s ever seen directed at him. In Levi’s words, there it is: the infamous Bitch Smile.

“I didn’t know you cared about gossip,” Asmo looks like a dragon picking his teeth with human bones as he sits against the window sill.

The afternoon light drifting in through the sheer curtains casts him in an ethereal glow, and Solomon bites back his unnecessary request for Asmo to move out of such flattering lighting so he can negotiate with him properly.

“I don’t, which is how I know it’s true.”

“And? What? You’re going to try and _blackmail_ me with this information?” Asmo sneers, but even crippling distaste is an attractive look for the other.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Solomon scoffs, “I’m offering to _tutor_ you.”

Asmo blinks at that.

“I won’t tell anyone. You know my grades. Half of our required classes are together, so it’s not like it would put me under any more stress than _not sleeping_. And I’m not unreasonable,” Solomon says, “If you must bring people over, just let me know in advance and I’ll go to a coffee shop or the library. I _do_ need to sleep, so I want them out by nine or ten at the latest.”

Asmo doesn’t immediately say no like Solomon thought he would, so things are already going much better than he expected. However, it still does not prepare him for Asmo’s response.

“Fine. Is that all you want?” He asks, and Solomon pointedly ignores the double entendre. 

“I want one of the shelves in the bathroom cabinet,” Solomon blurts, because Asmo has too many beauty products and there’s no space for him in the current set up. Asmo’s brow rises, even as his mouth twist into a wry, surprised smile.

“Maybe.”

“I can work with maybe,” Solomon smiles in return, standing and extending his hand out for a shake. “It’s a deal, then?”

Asmo stares at the hand, his expression unreadable, before something seems to break. He pushes off the window sill and in a few short strides, huffing with laughter, “What’s with the handshake? So formal.”

Solomon doesn’t rise to the bait even if there is a light dusting of pink on his cheeks. This is the first time they’ve touched, he realizes as his magic hums as Asmo’s hand is warm and steady in his own.

“It’s a deal.” Asmo says, and there’s a hint of interest in his eyes as he seems to see Solomon in a new light.

Solomon doesn’t mean to overhear it. He spends so much time in RAD’s library that it’s essentially his second home.

“How’s your shady roommate?” He hears a voice say, and it’s familiar enough to jarr Solomon from his thoughts.

A tinkling laugh, and Solomon blinks in realization. _Asmo_? Solomon tries to not eavesdrop, tries so hard to not let his interest wander from the potion formula in front of him, because it really has been giving him trouble…

“He’s not bad. Too stiff. Looks great when he comes out of the shower,” Asmo purrs. Solomon feels the bright pink blush rise to his cheeks. They’re talking openly about this in a _library_ , of all places. RAD’s library is unreasonably huge, though–even on a busy weekday, one could be several aisles away from another human being in this space.

They’re both taking the same potions class, so it’s not too far off the mark that they’d both be in the same area looking for reading materials. Solomon should really just leave before he hears anything else that makes his ears burn.

“I don’t trust him.” Asmo’s brother, Satan, says. _Of course_. Solomon grinds his teeth. Asmo _hmms_.

“He definitely has a weird powerful vibe about him. I don’t blame you. His face just looks like he’s up to something,” Solomon swallows the spike of hurt that hits at Asmo’s words, even if he’s heard them before. Two months since he started tutoring Asmo. Three months since he moved in. Their cohabitation isn’t domestic, but it is at least _civil_. “I’ve seen him sleep but I don’t believe it, you know? I’ve never seen him do anything for fun. He’s so pent up and proper that I’m not sure how he does it.”

“He _doesn’t_.” Satan tsks, “You’ve heard about what happened, right?” Solomon feels his blood run cold.

That was different. It was an accident. He was a child. He was weak then. Solomon would never do anything like that on purpose again. Surely, surely Asmo wouldn’t–

“Of course! It figures though, all the super powerful kids are fucked in the head. But other than that, he’s not bad.”

But he’s not bad. But _he’s not bad_. As if Solomon would ever settle for not bad after such an callous description of his person. Fury, the kind that makes his magic churn under his skin at a rolling boil, rises in him: at Satan, at Asmo, at _himself_ for.. For what? Believing that Asmo may actually have been different? That they could have been _friends_?

“What was that?” Satan asks, likely sensing the swirl of Solomon’s magic.

Cursing inwardly, he wrangles his wild emotions under control through years of practice. He will not prove them right. Solomon closes his textbook. His chair screeches against the floor as he stands, Satan and Asmo crossing out of the aisle into the open study area where Solomon has been seated, completely unhidden.

“Were you eavesdropping?” Satan accuses, his bright green eyes sharp and disdainful.

Years and _years_ of diligently studying. Never losing his temper. His single minded determination to better himself has erected a wall that others look on in contempt. _Do not prove them right about you,_ Solomon tells himself, nails digging into his palms hard enough to leave red crescent marks. Do not let the rumors be true.

He cannot look at Asmo, so instead, he smiles at Satan.

“No,” Solomon laughs, and the politeness in it is so _fake_ that it hurts, “I was studying for the same test that Asmo is studying for. Voices carry quite well in a library.”

Satan glances at Asmo, but Solomon still cannot look at him. Tossing his book haphazardly into his bag, he throws it over his shoulder.

“I’ll leave the two of you to it, then.”

“Solomon, hey, _wait_!” Solomon is not running away, but he has a very brisk pace and does not feel bad when Asmo has to job to catch up with him. “Listen, about what I said–”

Solomon stops sharply enough that Asmo almost runs into him, but Solomon uses his magic to help steady Asmo. It isn’t to be helpful, it’s to stop Asmo from getting close enough to touch him, as if that will protect him from all of these hurt, churning emotions. He exhales through his nose.

“Since you’re actually taking the time to go to the library… I don’t think you need my help anymore.” Solomon forces himself to look at Asmo, steeling himself against whatever petulant expression is probably on the other’s face.

“ _Right_?”

Asmo’s face is not petulant in the slightest. He seems… upset? Solomon feels the beast snarl inside him, a lick of rage at the downtrodden expression on the other’s face. He gets caught shit talking him openly and then has the gall to look hurt when he gets his free tutoring cut off? Asmo’s family is disgustingly rich and well connected. Let him lose his pride and ask _them_ for help.

Solomon will last the year. He and Simeon will room together next year. Asmodeus will _not_ be what breaks him.

Asmo falters at the intensity of Solomon’s gaze, the severity of his words.

“… Right.” Asmo says, and Solomon lets his feet carry him away before either of them say anything else.

After a week of tense, peaceful avoidance, Satan dropping into the seat opposite him at the campus coffee shop is the last thing Solomon expects.

“I apologize for my conduct the other day.”

Solomon blinks at him.

What is Satan doing here? Irritation immediately blossoms in his chest–he may not be furious anymore, but that doesn’t mean he _wants_ to see Satan, nor had he expected to.

After cancelling their tutoring sessions, he’s made it a point to spend as little time in their (when had it become _their_ room? It was always Asmo’s room at first) room as possible. Sure, it means spending garbage amounts of money on overpriced coffee and shitty wi-fi when the library gets too stuffy, but at least he can breathe.

None of that explains why Satan is here. Apologizing to him. Surely it must be some kind of a trap? A childish prank? _Really_? Would Asmo stoop so low? He doesn’t know either of these brothers enough to truly say. It’s best for him to be polite for now, until he can figure out Satan’s true motiv–

“You realize that a lot of people don’t trust you because there’s a moment on your face where you look like you’re _actively plotting_ , and then you say some polite nonsense,” Satan says, and Solomon’s brain stops like a record screeching.

“Is this really an apology.” Solomon says, drily. Satan shrugs his shoulders.

“ _That_ was an observation. This is the apology.” Satan clears his throat, looking Solomon straight in the eyes. “It was unbecoming of me to speak of you like that in public. I should know better, and I’m sorry.”

“It’s what you thought,” Solomon says, because it’s true. It’s what they all think, and for a good chunk of his life, Solomon rarely tried to make them think differently.

“It was ignorant.” Satan’s bright green eyes stare into his own, and Solomon senses no dishonesty in his words. When Solomon speaks, he finds that he actually might believe them.

“Apology accepted.” _Now leave me alone_.

Satan narrows his eyes, “Really?” Solomon resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Yes, really.”

“Will you speak to my brother again, then?”

“It’s a little presumptuous of you to ask for my forgiveness _and_ a favor in the same breath.”

“Asmo flunked the last test,” Satan says, in lieu of a proper answer, “He’s in a world of shit at the moment.”

“Why doesn’t he try _flirting_ with the professor?” Solomon scoffs.

Satan props his chin up on his hand with a lopsided smile that’s far more relaxed than he’s ever seen from the fourth brother, “That’s the thing, he _hasn’t_. Lucifer chewed him out about it and he took it with his tail between his legs rather than kick up a fit about it too.” Solomon’s quick mind lets him skip over the next lines of whatever shitty banter they’ve got to reach Satan’s point.

“You want me to tutor him again.” Solomon asks in disbelief, despite himself. Satan snorts and leans back.

“Nothing so pedantic as that,” Satan waves the notion away, “Just stop avoiding him at every turn, and hear what he has to say. If you’re still mad at him after that, then that’s perfectly reasonable too, considering my brother is one of the biggest assholes to ever exist. He’s _unbearably_ dramatic when he gets into fights with his friends.”

“… Friends?”

Satan stares at him like he’s grown another head, “ _Obviously_.”

Solomon laughs so hard, he’s sure that he’s confirmed all of Satan’s weird opinions of him.

“Solomon?” Asmo breathes his name, hand lingering on the doorknob as he enters the room to see Solomon sitting in his desk chair.

“Satan talked to me,” Solomon says, reveling in the stunned look on Asmo’s face, before crossing his arms, ”He apologized for what he said. And then he asked me to at least hear you out because you’re _sulking_.” Asmo pouts at Satan’s words, and Solomon quirks his brow.

“Is he wrong?”

In response to this, Asmo’s face looks pained, lips pressing together as he glances to the side. He’s like a petulant child, Solomon thinks, even if he’s somehow still amused by the other’s expression.

When Asmo looks at Solomon, and he throws his hands up in the air, “I shouldn’t have said it. _There_ , are you happy?”

“Not really,” Solomon admits, “I understand why your brother might think that of me, but to hear it from someone that I’m helping out…” He adds a little bit of a softer, sadder tone to his voice to make Asmo writhe, and _ha_ , does it _work_.

Asmo groans, ruffling his hands through his hair, “Alright, I’m a dick! Are you happy? I’m a gossipy bitch and I say things I shouldn’t. You helped me out and I.. took advantage of it. I’m sorry!” Asmo’s arms cross, and he looks so genuinely uncomfortable that Solomon wants to laugh. 

“You’re _terrible_ at this. I was confused as to why Satan might say I can still be mad at you after you say your piece but.. I get it. You’re even worse than he is at it, dare I say.”

“You haven’t met our eldest brother,” Asmo sniffs, before continuing, “Besides, words and emotions are hard, bodies are easier,” Asmo shrugs, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

“You sound like a bad high school drama,” Solomon scoffs, rolling over Asmo’s affronted gasp, “In any case, I heard you flunked the last test we shared. Maybe if you spent less time _flirting_ with the TA in that class, you could retain the information on the board.” Solomon brings his knuckles to his chin, holding his elbow in his other palm.

“It can’t be helped. If we can get you set up with some extra credit there and you ace the next few exams that should keep your grade above water.” Solomon runs the numbers in his head, but Asmo is waving his hands in the air.

“Wait, wait, _waaaait!_ You’re forgiving me?”

“I’m _considering_ it. You have to make it up to me somehow, but as for the tutoring.. we’re too close to exams for me to want to deal with another roommate if you get yourself suspended. I don’t have blackmail material on anyone else, unfortunately.” Solomon’s kidding about the blackmail, but Asmo deserves a little ribbing after that awful apology.

Although Asmo doesn’t seem offended by the joke. No, it actually seems to be… the opposite? As he speaks, Asmo’s looking at him with a blinding smile.

“Are you listening to me?” Solomon frowns, knocked off balance by Asmo’s expression, “Because if you aren’t, I swear i’m going to–”

A flurry of motion, Asmo crosses the space of their room quicker than Solomon’s ever seen him.

Asmo’s hand cups his face, the other lands on his hip; Solomon has very little time to think, because Asmo’s gorgeous face is in centimeters away from his own. The scent of Asmo’s perfume fills his senses, rendering him stunned–Asmo glances down at his parted lips, and then back up at Solomon’s eyes.

Asmo kisses him, and Solomon’s magic blows out the fuses in their entire building.

In the chaos of their plunge into darkness, Solomon’s hands shooting out to shove Asmo back accidentally activates his magic, and Asmo stumbles a few paces further before falling to the ground.

“ _Ah_ ,” Asmo yelps, at the same time Solomon rises from his seat, “What the _hell_ , Asmo?”

They’re not in total darkness, thanks to the dim light from the streetlamps outside, but it still takes Solomon’s eyes a few seconds to adjust. Asmo’s vague form is still seated on the floor, propped up on his elbows.

“ _What was that_?” He demands, still haunted by the firm press of Asmo’s lips against his. Asmo shifts to get up, and Solomon’s arm immediately reaches out to offer his assistance. Asmo huffs at the motion, but takes his hand anyway.

“I thought I could make it up to you this way.”

“By offering to, what, _make out with me_?” Solomon says, disbelief mounting. Asmo shrugs his shoulders, one hand trailing up Solomon’s hip.

“Sure, we could do that. We could do whatever you want,” and now that Solomon’s eyes have adjusted to the dim lighting, he can see the coy smile playing at Asmo’s lips, “I see how you look at me, how could you not? Besides, you’re quite handsome yourself…” Asmo purrs, his free hand reaching up to graze against Solomon’s blushing cheeks.

For a moment, Solomon hesitates–Asmo _is_ gorgeous. Even if Solomon were deaf to the campus’ adoration of him, he would have to be blind as well to not realize that just by existing near Asmo. There’s always a mix of challenging and inviting in his eyes, an ease that shows itself in all of his movements. Asmo exudes a level of sensual energy that is a powerful skill in its own right, and Solomon is a healthy young adult…

But Solomon has no desire to fall into Asmo’s bed like another one of his hundreds of admirers, clamoring to get into the other’s bed space. He has more important things in mind. 

“That’s not what I meant by making it up to me!” Solomon is very proud of his voice not cracking as he pushes Asmo’s hand away, and the coquettish expression is quickly replaced by Asmo’s pout.

“Well, how else am I supposed to show you how truly repentant I am!” He whines at his failed seduction.

“I can’t even _begin_ to explain how screwed up that is, Asmo.” Solomon groans, running his hand through his hair, “You could have offered me another shelf in the bathroom cabinet or more sink space and I would have considered it a start.” 

Asmo blinks, tilting his head to the side, “… Really? That’s all you want?” He seems stunned that someone would turn down his body.

“Now that I know you were going to _offer your body_ , half of the sink sounds too fucking small, doesn’t it?” Solomon retorts, and Asmo laughs.

A loud knock startles both of them out of their conversation, and he hears the muffled voice of their RA from the other side.

“Are you alright in there? There’s been a power outage – will you be alright casting magelight, or do you need flashlights?”

Solomon, in desperate need of a reprieve from Asmo’s… Asmo-ness… goes to open the door as the RA speaks. After a quick exchange of assuring the doting senior in their pajamas, Solomon shuts the door with a sigh. When he turns around, Asmo is seated in his desk chair with a soft pink magelight floating idly nearby. Asmo seems to be deep in thought, and Solomon approaches him with slight hesitation.

As soon as Solomon gets closer, Asmo’s gaze snaps up to look at him so suddenly that Solomon almost balks.

“I know what I can do for you,” Asmo says, his eyes twinkling with mischief and utter glee. The pink light casts an almost eerie, and somehow still enticing shadow on the other’s face. 

Solomon isn’t too proud to admit he’s _terrified_ by whatever Asmo is about to offer.

“… So you didn’t sleep with him?” Simeon asks, and Solomon chokes on his tea.

“What! Of course not!” He coughs through his instantaneous response, pounding his fist on his chest. “He said… oh hell, I can’t say this, it’s ridiculous.” Solomon covers his face with his hands, an unbidden blush rising to his cheeks.

“He said he was going to make me popular,” Solomon groans, a little quieter in volume. Simeon is silent for a long enough time that Solomon takes his face out of his hands to look at him questioningly, but Simeon’s got one hand over his mouth as he shakes in stifled amusement.

“Wh–” At Solomon’s confused expression, Simeon is unable to contain himself any longer, bursting into a loud fit of laughter. Simeon throws his arms around Solomon in a crushing hug, even as Solomon tries to shove his way out of it.

“Oh, this is going to be _great_.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like this would definitely be considered #crack or #ooc slightly because it’s always hard to translate personalities that are defined by specific experiences (such as being alive for thousands of years) into any AU, but especially ones where they’re only 19/20 year olds lmaaoo
> 
> Facets of their personalities I tried to keep: Solomon’s ambition/the fact that people think he’s so shifty, and Asmo’s sexual bravado/blatant insecurities of his person. Who knows if that comes off here, but hey, I had fun lkajflaks
> 
> As always, ty for reading!!! I appreciate your kind words and responses on my stuff ;w;
> 
> (indiavolojones.tumblr.com)


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